It Takes Two
by Skalidra
Summary: Sometimes, the only way to get information from a target is to subdue them. Dick hates it, but every once in awhile it's the only choice. Things are going well until Jason drops in out of nowhere and nearly ruins his plans, only to help him come up with a new one. Maybe even a better one. - Prompt fill, Jason/Dick.


Hello! So this is another prompt, this one from the user 'Heathleaves', requesting prompt 37, "Wanna dance?" with Jason/Dick. This went through several different incarnations before I settled on a plot, but here it is! (Initially there was tango, but that got dropped along the way.)

 **Warnings** for this are: threats of Rape/Non-Con, but nothing that the character doesn't choose to let happen/nothing explicit or past groping. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

The man in front of me laughs. His breath — too close — smells like a mix of the burn of what I think is rum, mixed with whatever kind of fruity thing has been added to it to make it more than just straight alcohol. His hand — too _familiar_ — is creeping steadily farther down my waist, keeping me dragged close in against his lap with its weight around my back. If this wasn't exactly what I wanted, I'd be seriously pissed off at the liberties this guy is taking.

Unluckily for him, he's following my outline just perfectly.

Just a few more minutes of this, and then I can get him alone. I can get the evidence I need off the USB he's got on him — too far inside his clothing, or I'd have taken it already — and drag him off to put him in a cell, and then this whole night will be done and I can go home and take a long shower. Partially to get whatever smell this expensive club is leaving on my skin, but mostly because it was a long night and I'm already tired and sore. I could use a good few hours of sleep, and enough hot water over my shoulders to make them relax a little. The forced relaxation I've got going on now really isn't helping actually get rid of any of the tension that's in my muscles.

I shift, tracing my hand up the back of this guy's neck and giving him a smile that flirts with being a smirk. The look in his eyes is dark and focused, all of it aimed at me. Not surprising; I might not like being the equivalent of bait on a hook, but I'm good at it. I can use what I look like — plus some hair dye, makeup, and contacts — to reel in and catch just about anyone, if they've got that kind of a leaning. This guy does, and he's been pretty easy in comparison to some others.

His other hand touches my knee, sliding up a bit to grip my thigh, and I push back the ingrained instinct to grab the back of his neck, let my weight drop back, and slam my knee into his face. That would be just a _little_ counterproductive.

So I let him, let my lips curl in a smile as I lean in to suggest we go off to do _exactly_ what he's thinking, and then my plans go sharply off their tracks.

A man drops into the lounge chair opposite with all the sprawl and presence of someone confident as hell, legs rising to prop up on the table between the two, narrowly missing the drinks on it. The man underneath me tenses for a fraction of a second, and I raise my gaze to this new person at about the same time as he speaks.

"Well _that's_ a pretty catch."

You've gotta be kidding me. My gaze lands on a painfully undisguised _Jason_ , a crooked smirk on his face and his gaze trained right towards mine. I only _barely_ manage not to stiffen, and restrain any kind of a real reaction. There is absolutely _no_ doubt in my mind that Jason recognizes me, considering the anticipation and what I'd label as _mischieviousness_ in his eyes. Oh, _hell_.

He's not in his costume at least. It looks like he might be in a persona of his own — I guess his face isn't well known, so he wouldn't need any real disguise — if the all black outfit is anything to go by. It's a leather jacket, tight jeans, a tank-top a size too small that strains over the muscles of his chest, combat boots with the sheen of metal at the toe, and the glint of two studs in his left ear. I've got no doubt he's got knives and weapons hidden in that outfit, but damn if I can find them at a first glance. It's a really good looking mix of hot as hell, and serious 'don't fuck with me' bad boy. I'm not used to seeing Jason outside of his Red Hood armor; this is new and different and _damn_ him but I think I like it.

I'd like it more if his presence wasn't threatening my plans.

"Jake," my target says, "I was starting to wonder if you were even going to show up."

Jason cracks a grin. "Have I let you down yet? But damn, if I'd known you were just waiting on me to go have fun with something like that," a drag of Jason's eyes down my frame that somehow makes me feel a lot more naked than even my target's wandering hands, "I would've hurried. Didn't mean to keep you from your fun."

At least he hasn't straight out blown my cover.

"Friend of yours?" I murmur in my target's ear, lightly scratching my nails along the back of his neck. He twitches a little bit, draws in a breath, but doesn't pull away from my touch.

"Just business," he answers, and then refocuses on Jason. "My payment?"

Jason reaches into his jacket, with a deliberate slowness that's clearly there to ease suspicious minds, and then produces a sealed brown envelope and tosses it down onto the table. He pulls his legs off of it, but keeps them slightly spread and projecting nothing but confidence. "My information?" he counters.

My target lifts his hand off my thigh long enough to snap his fingers. One of the two bodyguards hovering nearby — that I've been carefully ignoring — steps forward and does the same thing Jason did. He reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a manila envelope to toss down in front of Jason, who waits just a second before leaning forward and taking it off the table. He flicks the seal open and turns the envelope to let the papers slide partway out. One of his hands flips through the papers to let him scan them — I can't see what's on them from here — and then he pushes them back in and closes it again.

"Looks good." His grin has dropped away, leaving him serious and all business in a way that I rarely see. "Money's all there, you know I don't skimp." Then he does flash another grin, as he starts to stand. "Have fun with your catch, hm?"

One of the bodyguards steps forward, threateningly, and Jason's gaze snaps up to that one for a moment. My target gives a small shrug, and then a smile. "Make yourself comfortable while I count it, just to be sure. Policy, you know?"

Jason echoes the shrug. "Of course, I get it." His gaze slides back to me, and I know the second that he smirks that I'm not going to like what he's about to say. "Mind if I steal a dance with your pretty little toy while you make sure? I'm terrible at waiting."

I bite my tongue to not comment, and not to shake my head and hiss at Jason that _no_ , thank you, I have a _plan_ here. Instead I force myself not to react apart from looking back at my target, as if waiting for his answer. Which I am. I'm _stuck_ ; I can't say no to Jason without breaking the cover I've got going. _Damn_ me for picking a more passive role this time around.

My target doesn't look particularly pleased with the idea, but he gives a small nod and lets go of me. "Bring him right back, Jake." _Shit_.

I obligingly slide off his lap, as Jason gives a grin that looks too much like victory for my tastes, and make my way around the table. Jason extends a hand, like he's some kind of gentleman, and I try not to grip it too tightly when I take it. "Permission granted after all," he says, his grin hiking high enough I kind of want to punch it. "Wanna dance, sweet thing?"

I glance back at my target, but his gaze has fallen down to the envelope, and _oh_ is that a lot of money he's pulling out of there. No wonder he's alright with Jason stealing me for a bit, plus the fact that usually people like him enjoy counting the money with their owns hands. That'll keep him busy for a while; I just have to make sure I get back in his good graces before he slips out of the club for the night. I don't want to have to go through this night again for a second shot at getting that USB.

Jason leads me away, fingers warm and firm around mine. When we're safely out of earshot, he leans down next to me and murmurs in my ear, "You know, that guy's a good informant of mine. I'd appreciate you not putting him away permanently."

"Why am I not surprised?" I answer, and then have to pause a moment as Jason swings me around and onto the actual polished wood of the dance floor. Mostly deserted, but the band is playing something soft and slow. Jason's free arm hooks around my waist, drawing me in way too close, before he coaxes me into the sway and step of a slow dance. "Jake?" I ask, glancing briefly over his shoulder and back towards my target.

"Easy to answer to," he explains. "What about you, Dickie? You even give him a name?" I twitch my head in a small shake, and he smirks. "Nameless _and_ shameless. Love the leather pants, by the way. Skintight is always a better look when it shows a little skin."

"You're an ass."

"I'm honest," is the immediate counter. "What do you think you're doing, Dickie? You know how long you're going to be in that creep's lap?" I refocus my attention on him, not letting my expression slip from the easy acceptance of my role. "No? Alright, well he's got four meetings after mine, and he leaves at least half an hour between people in case of complications. You really want to stick around for another two hours? You think he's going to keep his hands to himself for that long?"

My jaw tightens for just a second, and I barely resist tightening the loose drape of my arm around his shoulders into a tight fist. "I wouldn't let anything happen, Jason. You know me better than that."

There's something almost like disquiet in his eyes, and his hand squeezes down on my waist. "Did you skip the homework?" he asks, with more than a little bit of snap to his tone. "That guy won't fuck you in public, not straight out, but I've seen him do pretty much everything up to that. He's got a thing for exhibitionism and humiliation for his partners. You miss that, Dick?"

I blink, stare at him for a moment, and then manage to get out, "You're messing with me." But I don't think I believe it. Jason looks as sincere as he pretty much ever gets, and that glint in his eyes is concern, not anything more amused. Jason's a pretty good liar, but usually I can read him anyway.

"I'm not." He makes a sound that's restrained frustration, pulling me a little closer in. "I will mess around about a lot of shit, Dick, but not consent. He's not going to wait two hours to have you on your knees, and unless you let him do it you're going to lose him. This isn't going to work out for you, not in any way you want."

We've spun far enough around that I can see the target again, and I take another small glance at him. "Then I'll have to find another way."

His eyes narrow almost imperceptibly. Almost. "What are you after?"

"A USB drive." I curl my fingers around the collar of his jacket, and I give a smile for the sake of our audience. I'm not positive how much attention they're paying us, but better not to get caught unawares. "It's got his business dealings, he always keeps it on him, next to skin. Too far in to get subtly, not while he's fully clothed anyway. Just need to get him alone; it's been a pain to make that happen or it'd be done already."

"Frustrated, Dickie?" he teases. "Guess you must be if you pulled out the leather pants; last I remember you didn't like using what you look like to get things." That bit's a little more serious, and then his voice flattens out as he asks, "Want some help?" I twitch an eyebrow up, and he smirks. "Yes, I'm serious. _Nightwing_ might be a little too well behaved to threaten a guy enough to get him to take off all his clothes in public, but I'm not. Your reputation stays safe, you stay unmolested, and people think I'm a little crazier than usual. No big; I can use it."

"Uh-huh." It's a good point, really. Jason's right, I _can't_ be that strange as Nightwing, not unless I want people to start whispering about how I've started stripping people. But Jason very rarely does something without expecting some kind of payment for it, and I don't like to think about the last time he got me to owe him a favor. "And what am I paying to make this happen, Jason?"

That smirk widens, and he leans in to speak directly into my ear. "Let's just say you'll owe me one, Dickiebird."

" _No_." I don't think I could make my voice much firmer without raising it. "I remember last time. You tell me what you want upfront, or I will figure this out on my own."

"You looked good in the scaly panties. You know it." He grins. "I still have the pictures. Gotta say, I was debating framing them and hanging them up on my wall." I risk glaring at him for a second before smoothing my face back out, and he gives a small laugh. "Alright, so no unnamed favors. Then how about…" He considers me for a second, and then gives a wicked smirk that makes me tense up for a second. "How about you owe me a dance when this is done, Dickie?"

I blink, staring at him. "A… dance? Is that a euphemism, Jason?"

The wiggle of his eyebrows is comical, almost enough to pry a startled laugh from me if I didn't strangle it midway up my throat. "Hey, you wanna make it a horizontal dance I'm down, but no trick wording from me, I promise. Come out to a good club with me, and share a song or two with me in a dance. Call it a celebration of finally getting what you're after, if you want."

I take another second to try and figure out how Jason could possibly twist this around to something else, but I don't see anything. So, warily, I agree. "Deal. You get me that USB, I'll go out with you for a dance."

He grins. "Deal. Alright then, let's get you back to your target, _pretty boy_."

I _almost_ dig my fingers into Jason, somewhere subtle but painful as hell, but instead force myself to smile and pull my arms away from him. He hooks one of his arms through mine, and steers me off the dance floor and back towards my target. It looks like he's done counting his money, and has started watching us instead. Good thing Jason and I reached an agreement; don't think we could have pulled off dancing for too much longer. Jason leads me back, and then unhooks his arm from mine and lets me take the last few steps around the low table to get back to my target.

"Hell of a catch," Jason repeats, with a smirk and a small dip of his head. "We all good?" My target nods, but doesn't seem inclined to say more, since I'm resettling myself in his lap at the same time. "Great. See you next time then; thanks for the info."

My target completely ignores him in favor of me, as I slide my arm around his shoulders and offer him a teasing smile, pressing my low back to the arm of his chair. His hand goes back around my waist, and I keep my smile even as his other hand touches my thigh. Just a matter of time.

It just becomes a game of teasing, trading small bits of conversation and taking long sips of the drink I've got down on the table. But Jason is nowhere to be seen, and eventually my guy gets a little more insistent. I put up with it for a bit, but finally draw a hard line when his hand pushes between my thighs and grabs my crotch, fingers digging hard further back and making no secret of what he'd like to be doing. I shift, twisting away and trying to push his arm away with my knee. It doesn't really work, and his hand slides up to pop the button and zipper on my pants before I grab his wrist.

"Hey," I get out, trying to keep my voice just wary and _not_ twist his wrist enough to break it like I really want to. "I don't do public, alright? You want to take me off to a room, that's great, but I'm not a fan of audiences."

"Shame; I am." There's a bit of danger in my target's tone, matching the slightly narrowed eyes, and I quietly wonder if I misjudged more than just this guy's kinks.

That's confirmed when one of the bodyguards steps up behind me and grabs my wrist in turn. _His_ twist of my wrist hurts, and I let myself gasp a bit as he twists way more than he should and then drags my arm up and above my head. It hurts, and it forces my back to arch as he just keeps pulling down, all but doubling me over the arm of the chair. I keep my trained reactions in check, because nothing would blow my cover quite as fast as suddenly breaking into advanced combat styles, and that lets the bodyguard grab my other wrist and twist that one back to join my other arm. It's nothing I can't handle, but I let a hiss escape my lips to not betray that I'm not in as much pain as I should be.

The other bodyguard grabs my ankles — my back's arched far enough I can't even see him — and I let myself worry for just a second. I can still get out of this, but not as easily as I'd like, and if this guy pulls a knife, or a gun, my options drop pretty low. For now, he seems more interested in shoving his hand down the front of my pants and cupping my cock. Like he thinks any of this actually got me hard.

"Let me go!" I demand, twisting my hips and pulling against the hold on my ankles.

"You can't tease a guy all night and then just back out," my target says, and I wish I could crane my head far enough up to see his face but that's an impossibility right now. "You do what I want, or I tie you down and do it anyway. You play with me, we can have some fun." He squeezes me hard enough to hurt, and I grit my teeth. "You _don't_ , and I let my guards have some fun with you when I'm done. Pretty thing like you, I bet they don't let you go for a long time."

 _Damnit_. Do I blow my cover, or see how far this goes before Jason shows up?

As if my thoughts summon him, there's the ominous click of a gun's safety coming off, and then a mechanically distorted deep voice. "I suggest you let the guy go."

There's a second of frozen silence before the hands on me vanish, and I'm free to pull myself together and roll off of the guy's lap. My hip clips the coffee table, but I shove to my feet and back away from my target and the two bodyguards. Jason's standing behind the guy, one of his guns nestled squarely against the back of my target's neck, and a second drawn in his other hand but pointing at the floor. Playing the part, I fumble to get my pants zipped back up and a decent distance between me and them.

Jason carefully drops that second gun back into its holster, and holds his hand out in my direction. "I can get you out of here," he promises, and I consider for a second — does my persona go with the heavily armored guy, or run for it by himself? — and then nod. I give the bodyguards a wide berth as I circle around to Jason and take his hand, letting him guide me mostly back behind him.

"Alright, buddy," and his attention is back on my target. "How about you stand up and turn around, real slowly?" As my target obeys, Jason's head tilts a bit to glance at each of the bodyguards in turn. "And the two of you. Back behind that table, and on your knees. Twitch wrong, and you won't _have_ knees, got that?"

The rest of the club has just about frozen, but a glance around it proves that the less savory crowd is making themselves scarce, as quickly and quietly as they can manage. Still, at least this is a seedy enough place that it's very unlikely the cops will be called. Even if they are, Jason is more than practiced enough to be out of here long before they show up. I might not approve of all of what Jason does, but I can respect and appreciate his skills. Especially when they happen to be on my side, even though that doesn't happen as often as I'd like.

The bodyguards are down, and my target is standing with his hands automatically raised. He looks scared, almost downright terrified, and I'm almost jealous. Criminals don't look at _me_ that way. Then again, I don't kill, and I don't have anything as obviously threatening as a gun. I will admit that Jason's look is a lot more suited for intimidation than mine, even though most of Gotham's lowlifes have learned to at least respect me, even if they don't outright fear me. I can do the intimidation thing when I need to, it's just not my natural state.

I can hear the smirk in Jason's voice as he orders, "Strip down."

"I— _What?_ "

Just like that Jason's posture changes, his weight shifting forward like he's ready to spring, and his voice lowering to a deeper growl. " _Strip down_. What's the matter, you like _public_ , don't you?"

Oh, this might have been a mistake.

My target gets to work, shaking like a leaf but slowly managing to get out of his clothes. I look away as he gets close to being naked, only watching from the corner of my eye. I almost sigh in relief when his pants come off, and the USB I'm looking for comes into view, strapped around his left thigh. Jason steps around the chair, and my target freezes in place. The gun stays trained steadily on his chest as Jason rips the USB off of its strap, and holds it up between them. The guy's gone _very_ pale.

"Well, this looks important. Guess I'll just head off with this and we can call it even." Jason starts to move away, and the guy makes a protesting noise and shifts forward like he's actually going to try and stop Jason. Jason, who instantly turns on his heel, lifts the other leg, and _slams_ his boot into the center of my target's chest. I inhale sharply at the loud crack of bone, as he collapses to the ground and Jason settles back down onto both feet. "There are other important things you could be losing," Jason threatens, and then crouches down over him. "See, there's not much that I hate as much as rapist _scum_ like you, and I would _enjoy_ putting a bullet right through the center of your head."

I almost jerk forward, but curl my hands to fists instead because Jason might sound sincere but he's not moving to do any of it yet. I can wait; I _trust_ Jason.

Jason's gun is pressed to my target's stomach, but his finger is pulled away from the trigger and his grip is loose. "Out of respect for a friend, I'm _not_ going to kill you." The gun slips down and sideways, pressing to the guy's knee instead. I _stay still_. "My second choice would be crippling you, permanently. Maybe a knee, maybe the spine. Lots of fun options." I can see the tension, the twitch in Jason's shoulders, and then the gun drops. "But he wouldn't approve of that either. So I'm going to let you get away with just a couple broken ribs; you'll heal. But let me make this perfectly fucking clear. If I _ever_ catch you pushing the issue after someone says 'no,' _ever_ again, I'll make sure they never find all of the pieces you'll be in."

I let out the breath I was holding as Jason stands and loops back around the chair to me. He offers me his arm, gun held at his side and his head slightly tilted back towards them, clearly listening just in case. I take it, keeping my movements just slightly cautious to hold onto my role; I might need it again someday. On the other hand, Jason is completely confident. He steers me out towards the back exit of the club, apparently not paying attention to the men behind us. But I know that's because I'm taking glances back at them, and Jason can see me doing it. Jason might be confident, but he's not stupid. If he didn't know I was watching his back, he'd be a lot more cautious about the gun-wielding thugs he's turning away from.

Once we're outside, and out of view, he wraps his arm around my waist and sheathes the gun. A moment later and he's raising a grappling gun and firing that instead, supporting my weight as the line lifts us both to the roof of the neighboring building. Fifteen stories up to the top of a fire escape, and then he leads the way up to the actual top of the building. I follow him, and once we're on the roof he turns back to me. As he moves, he pops the catch on his helmet, and when he's fully facing me he's got a crooked grin on his face.

"Happy to be out of there, Dickie?"

I give a small smile. "Definitely. My information?" He digs into one of the pockets in his jacket, and then underhand tosses the USB to me. I grab it out of the air, and tuck it away inside the poor excuse for a pocket that my leather pants have. "Thanks. So, where are we heading out to, Jason? What club did you have in mind?"

Jason crouches down, setting his helmet down on the rooftop, then straightens up and steps towards me. "Forget the club," he says quietly. "The leather pants look good, but it's not you, Dick." He shrugs, and then glances away. "Might be fun to dance, but I'm not real interested in you playing parts. Maybe later?"

My smile curls a little wider, and I close the distance between us with a couple of steps. "How about now?" I counter, holding out my hand. "Just us two, no witnesses. What do you say, Jason?" He gives me a look that I read as skepticism. "You get the pants _and_ me, Jason. Come on, wanna dance?"

He gives a bark of laughter, and then a grin. "Alright, you got me. The pants are a temptation, I admit. Let's dance, pretty boy."


End file.
